


The First Time

by jambal



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dream Sex, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pining, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambal/pseuds/jambal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

John stirred in his sleep while feelings overwhelmed him as he tried to come to full consciousness.

Breathing was heavy and it clung to the air in the room. Sherlock settled down next to John, his eyes flickered in the night light which tried to pierce into the doctor’s bedroom, like a warning.   
To stop?   
Warnings to continue until it were too late?   
If he stops staring will this entire moment evaporate, disappear and live only in his memory?   
Warnings to live?  
  


Sherlock breaks their gaze first and catches John’s neck with his beautiful bow-shaped lips. Pressing, kissing and sucking. Each breath hitches with every manoeuvre. John’s hands map Sherlock’s sides and he slowly begins to unbutton the shirt which he has grown so fond of seeing Sherlock wear, with grace and beauty, painted onto his lean body. Sherlock, still pressing his lips on the tender spots of John’s neck, gasps at the first touch of John’s hands on his bare skin, the very first touch. He moves on top John and stares into his eyes.  
  
 __

_Breathing rapid  
Pulse banging like wings against the wind  
Pupils dilated  
positively aroused_

“You’re so warm. Warmer than I expected” John finally says  
Sherlock frowns for a split second, so quick, John barely notices, then smiles down at the man beneath him. He then leans down over John, his heart beating rapidly against John’s chest. Their lips find each other for the first time. The very first time. To begin, slow, soft kisses – transforming into a sparrow, tongues clashing together, breathing and biting in a rhythm, like wings flying for the first time. The very first time.   
“Sherlock, are you sure...?”  
“Yes...evidently” He plants a hard kiss on John’s lips as extra confirmation of his opinion on the matter. His warm hands mapping John’s chest, stomach and down, until all he can breathe is John and he’s swimming in that masculine, musky scent, which reminds him of home. Sherlock hums in anticipation, ghosting the top of John’s hardening cock. Touching but not touching, breathing it. Wondering and consuming everything that was John and all that John was offering him. With haste Sherlock finally presses his hands on each side of John’s muscular thighs and in a swift and trembling motion he pulls down the only sliver of material which separates their bare skin. Finally releasing just how much John is aching for this, for Sherlock.  
Sherlock dips his head down and in one movement swallows John whole, John gasps as the tip of Sherlock’s nose touches his groin. Such a long neck John thinks amidst the waves of pleasure dissolving his thoughts and nothing is coherent; it hasn’t been since he moved in with Sherlock. Nothing has made sense and yet John hasn’t doubted one second of it, regretted one moment of it or cursed...well maybe he has cursed, Sherlock is an annoying pain in the ass _most_ of the time, but it doesn’t matter because John loves him regardless.  
Sherlock sucks and licks from the bottom of John’s shaft to the tip in long, elaborate and deliberate movements, feeling each vein and pulsation as John twitches, on the brink of ecstasy. Sherlock denies him his release and instead climbs up John’s body and captures him in a heated kiss before putting his ring and index fingers into John’s mouth, swirling them around until John understood and began to lick and suck on the fingers, taking them as deep as he could, bobbing his head until he was frantically searching for as much friction he could get, the feel of Sherlock’s nails scraping the inside of his mouth and his tongue. Sherlock’s knuckles banging against his teeth, until he couldn’t take it much longer. Sherlock withdrew his fingers and ghosted them down John’s body, past the curve of his collar-bone, tracing his hard nipples, down deeper past his taught abdomen until finally Sherlock was circling the outside of John’s hole, teasing and tantalising the muscles as he dared to push one wet finger inside, feeling John’s tightness around him, muscles contracting and straining as a second finger joined the first. Sherlock didn’t dare to move them, he just rested them, occasionally shifting them, and not quite touching John’s prostate but just enough to send waves of pleasure through John, enough to make him gasp and shiver with the pain and pleasure of it.

Sherlock curled his two fingers around and slowly retracted them, not fully leaving John’s body, but enough for the new space created to miss the fullness and the heat. He dared a glance up to John, who was positively trembling beneath him,

“Do you trust me, John?” Sherlock breathed  
John, still unable to form a coherent sentence could only nod, as eagerly as he could, and with that confirmation Sherlock withdrew his two fingers and almost immediately pushed in with three, John arched his back and moaned, both in pain and pleasure. The pain was undeniable, he was so tight...but the pleasure, well it was something he had never experienced before in his entire life; he was so full, it was too much but nowhere near enough, he needed more, more Sherlock. With quick movement and help from John’s grinding hips, Sherlock set up a steady rhythm, fucking John with his fingers. He also wanted more, he wanted to put all of his fingers inside John, he wanted to put his entire fist inside of John, he wanted to impale and own John.   
Too much, yet nowhere near enough.  
With a lot more determination than he could ever have imagined, Sherlock withdrew his fingers slowly, again just before John reached his climax. Sherlock planted soft kisses on the inside of John’s thighs; John understood this as an act of apology, for the torture that was prolonging his release. When the soft, light, feathery kisses stopped, yet lingered, Sherlock, with no hesitation whatsoever, lined up his own cock with John’s gaping hole and he plummeted inside of him, earning an ear-shattering scream of pleasure, torn from John’s lungs as if it were his last breath.   
The rhythm was impalpable and their breathing was in unison. Sherlock was sliding in and out, quick and smooth. John’s hands were clutching to the small of Sherlock’s back, riding out the rhythm fast. Breathing heavy, like wings flying, fluttering and with one fatal swoop they release, landing in a pool of ecstasy, they come at the same time. Sherlock’s hands covered in John and as John begins to co-ordinate his own thoughts he feels Sherlock’s own release pouring from him, like a drinking fountain, quenching his thirst, seeping all around them, coating them in adoration.  
They lie with each other for many moments, covered in each other, connected. Sherlock is pulled close to John, both men shaking. John slowly moves his hands up to Sherlock’s hair, damp with sweat, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. John inches his face closer and kisses Sherlock’s shoulder, tasting his sweat and letting his tongue trail up his neck, licking and kissing as he goes before finding Sherlock’s mouth and they kiss, softly. They sigh as the final jolts of their climax leave their bodies and consume the air around them, making it heavy with love and lust.   
“I don’t want to leave you, John” Sherlock says, staring into John’s eyes, reading him, calculating the next move, the next moment.  
John’s mind races, _leave?_ It’s over before it has even had a chance to...be, he doesn’t want him to leave but...and his mind fluctuates to Sherlock’s words again, a smile covers John’s face. Sherlock frowns, this time John does notice and soft giggles rise from John’s stomach and escape John’s mouth. Sherlock’s expression softens as he drops a kiss to John, trying to stifle the laughter coming from him. John smiles into the kiss, giggling in between breaths, shaking, Sherlock pulls away and feels a smile overwhelm his own face. The rumble of John’s giggles fluttering through his own body. He leans his forehead on John’s and suddenly the control he had is gone, a flutter of soft hiccoughs evaporate from his body and begin to consume the air around the two men.   
As it settles around them, Sherlock stares into John’s eyes again,

_Breathing rapid  
pulse applauding  
pupils blown wide  
positively aroused_  
  
Sherlock’s hands guide down to John’s already half-hard erection and the feeling of his own growing inside of John overwhelms him. Sherlock leans forward; breathe hitching and warming John’s ear, and whispers “I told you. I don’t want to leave you.”   
_ _ _

Memories and flashes of his dreams.  
Realisation as John opens his eyes to the sun, streaming into his small and precise bedroom.   
He turns to lie on his back. It was a startling and deafening reality, a horrible reality. The sort that was like a violating consciousness. His heart was beating fast against his chest.  
 _It’s my note  
  
_

Eyes closed – fingers, lips and tongues  
Eyes open – _goodbye John_

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean for the angst to happen, it just did. I hope you enjoyed it, regardless. 
> 
> As always I'm more than happy to receive feedback. I long for it ladies and gents, how else shall I improve?


End file.
